


Sweet as blood

by Lumeriel



Category: Onyx Equinox (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/referenced Human sacrifices, M/M, Masturbation, Memories, Quetzalcóatl -Mentioned, Sibling Incest, Spoilers, kind of spiritual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:06:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28550589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeriel/pseuds/Lumeriel
Summary: Tezcatlipoca has won the bet.Quetzalcoatl's power is sweet ... like the blood of sacrifices.Spoilers for Chapter 12.
Relationships: Quetzalcoatl/Tezcatlipoca
Comments: 27
Kudos: 25





	Sweet as blood

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dulce como la sangre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551189) by [Jadhy666 (Lumeriel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumeriel/pseuds/Jadhy666). 



> Note: Well, I did a marathon and watched the series in a few hours, without stopping, thanks to the beautiful fanarts of [@taiyaridraws](https://twitter.com/taiyaridraws) on twitter. Their entirely fault that I fell for this ship in one fell swoop.
> 
> I tried not to make direct references to any historical or religious subject because my knowledge of Mexican mythologies is quite rusty; but if you notice an error, feel free to point it out.
> 
> Warning: I did not know exactly how to tag this: in essence, there is sex in the story, almost masturbation although it does not get to be and so I tried 'spiritual sex'. And there are references to blood and sex that involve themes like human sacrifice.

Quetzalcoatl's power is sweet, sweet like the blood of sacrifices. And warm, like that same blood, like the skin when it shudders at the peak of passion, like the entrails when they girdle his rigid sex, like the mouth that offers itself to his kisses and devours. Quetzalcóatl's power is warm like his skin, like his entrails, like his mouth.

Tezcatlipoca delights in the sweetness that runs through his veins and puddles in his mouth. Tezcatlipoca delights in the warmth that envelops his body and cradles his own power. The power of Quetzalcóatl spills into him, like a wine that refreshes his throat and quenches an ancient thirst, like a delicacy that remembers too well and brings back memories of afternoons between furs and cottons, nights of alcohol and mouths eager to bite and claim, hours of naked bodies intertwined.

Quetzalcóatl's power is sweet as his voice when he groans in Tezcatlipoca's ears. Quetzalcóatl's power is sweet as his body as it arches beneath Tezcatlipoca, begging for more, waving like an exquisite serpent offering itself to his lust. Quetzalcóatl's power is sweet as the dance of his hips as he straddles Tezcatlipoca, head thrown back, hair like a silver veil adorning brown skin.

The energy runs through the body of the god, swirls in his lungs, tightens in his throat, tickles his belly, bulges in his crotch. He feels desire squeezing his flesh and tensing his testicles, and he clenches his fists before dropping to his knees among the jaguar furs that cover his bed.

Among these same furs he has enjoyed the slim and agile body of his opponent and lover. Among these same furs he has drunk the screams and blood of the 'feathered serpent'. Among these same furs he has lost the notion of himself, ascending an infinite abyss of desire and hunger.

It was not among these furs that he had him for the first time, no. It was on the altar of one of his temples.

Tezcatlipoca tenses with the memory. His cock shakes, seeking a familiar heat and the god licks his lips, evoking the image of Quetzalcóatl lying on the stone table, like an offering, covered with the blood of the sacrifices. Somehow, there is always blood between them - Quetzalcóatl's teeth are sharp and they like to find the shoulder or neck of his lovers, he knows: he has seen those marks too many times not to hate them; he has destroyed too many mortals just by wearing those marks. But sometimes it is Quetzalcóatl's blood that soaks the night lord's lips… and Quetzalcóatl's blood is sweet like his power, like his seed.

That first time, Tezcatlipoca took what was offered to him - as he always does - and took more. He took the moans, took the heat, took the laughter that accompanied the orgasm of the other god, took the shudders of his body, took the pressure of his thighs, took the tantalizing curve of his lips, the maddening gleam of his golden eyes, the softness of the feathers that later sprouted on Quetzalcóatl's neck and belly - a sign of weakness, no doubt. All that he took… and plunged it into his chest like an obsidian knife, until it caused pain, a pain that is never relieved… except now, when the power of Quetzalcoatl caresses him from within.

He flails among the furs, clinging to them with a clenched hand above his head, refusing to touch the erection that towers between his thighs. He gasps when a pulse of energy cracks in his chest, in his lower belly, in his throat...

Would he feel like this if he had Quetzalcoatl inside?, he fantasizes. He has always been the one who takes and the other god who opens and offers, and now he wonders what it would be like -what it would be like to feel Quetzalcóatl's cock advancing in his entrails, tensing, opening - that cock that he knows, that he has kissed a thousand times kneeling between his legs, which he has eaten until his taste is etched on his tongue like a tattoo.

The image unleashes a stream of lust that lifts his hips from the bed. He thrusts into the void, hissing through clenched teeth. Quetzalcóatl's power squeezes his testicles and he can almost feel the pressure of those long, delicate fingers that know every secret of his body - _his body, not his soul_ , he remembers with a remnant of consciousness.

Quetzalcóatl's power is sweet as himself - a poisonous sweetness, which has seeped into Tezcatlipoca's blood, intoxicating him.

Dead. Quetzalcóatl has to die so that he can free himself, to find pleasure again in other bodies, in other blood. And now he is mortal, without powers, without sacrifices; a mere mortal who could be in his temple tomorrow, cutting his throat for him.

A groan tears Tezcatlipoca's throat. He can almost taste the blood on his parted lips. He can almost feel Quetzalcóatl's last breath in his mouth, a breath that he will take with his last kiss. No, no cutting his neck; it will be his hands that tear that bronze skin, those that draw property lines on his neck and thighs, those that write his name throughout the length and breadth of the body that is only _his_.

Power spirals around his cock, a warm sheath that girdles his flesh - so much like Quetzalcoatl's insides when he rides him.

The god shakes his head from side to side, panting, squeezing his eyes closed to not let go of the illusion. He is going to devour him. One day, he is going to devour Quetzalcóatl and all the poisonous sweetness of him, he is going to put him inside himself... so that no one else can have him.

The orgasm shakes his body. The pleasure is almost sweet, almost bitter when he descends from the peak, returning to a reality where he is alone among jaguar furs.

Quetzalcóatl’s power tingles in his body, it bubbles in his veins like the laughter with which the god always explodes in pleasure.

Still panting, Tezcatlipoca turns onto his side and gazes into the void with blazing eyes.

He is not going to let him die. He is going to play for a while, let Quetzalcóatl move his pieces, put that beautiful head of his to work... but in the end, he will not allow him to die. He couldn't.

The power of Quetzalcoatl sits on his body, like a warm embrace, like the weight of the other god's head on his shoulder after passion.

Quetzalcoatl's power is sweet… like poisoned blood.

**Author's Note:**

> The series fascinated me, honestly. Besides the plot, the wonderful representation of cruel and exquisite gods, I loved having a reason to revisit legends that I knew and loved in my childhood - no, I'm not Mexican; but the ‘Feathered Serpent’ is an old acquaintance, as are the cities of Chichén Itzá or Uxmal (you don't know how happy I was to recognize the name!)  
> And I'm done chattering. If you liked it, drop kudos and shout at me.


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